Fateful Regret
by Gwen Potter
Summary: AU. At Hermione's funeral, Harry regrets never telling her how he felt. Quite angsty, with a very fluffy ending!


Disclaimer- I don't own Harry Potter or any of those people. JK Rowling has that pleasure, the lucky wench. And props to Hermione Malfoy who came up with yet ANOTHER title for me. Thanks, you ROCK!

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Fateful Regret

A twenty-four year old Harry Potter miserably shifted in his seat as he carefully eyed the casket sitting at the front of the small church. Lying motionless in the wooden box was his best friend, Hermione Granger.

Hermione, like Harry and Ron Weasley, their other best friend, had become an Auror after Hogwarts. She had been a terrific asset during the war against Voldemort, her keen intellect and powerful magical talent aiding greatly in bringing down the Dark Lord three years prior.

__

The final battle had taken place in the graveyard at Little Hangleton, where Voldemort had returned to power. After getting a report that Voldemort and his followers would be found there from their most valued spy, Professor Severus Snape, a small coalition consisting of Harry, Hermione, Ron, Draco Malfoy, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Arabella Figg, Mundungus Fletcher, and Albus Dumbledore all Apparated to the cemetery on that fateful August night.

Curses flew like mad as the abbreviated Order of the Phoenix fought the Death Eaters, Snape shedding his mask and robes and openly battling Voldemort. As the two groups threw hexes back and forth, Harry and Voldemort both screamed out "Avada Kedavra!" at the same time, creating, as it had done after the Third Task of the Triwizard Tournament, Priori Incantatem, the Reverse Spell Effect. Their wands connected as they had in the past, every person in the graveyard staring at Harry and Voldemort.

Already knowing what was coming, Harry had concentrated with all of his might, sending the large beads of light that appeared in the golden line between the back to Voldemort. Several shadows of Voldemort's previous victims shot out of the end of Voldemort's wand, but three in particular had drawn Harry's attention.

The first of those was Cedric Diggory, looking exactly as he had the day he died. He shouted words of encouragement to Harry as he joined in with the other shadows, slowly circling the perimeter of the golden dome. The next shadow that had stood out to Harry had been Lily Potter, his mother. Harry had heard Sirius and Remus both gasp somewhere behind him, and they became even louder as the next shadow appeared his father, James Potter. Going on the words of love and assurance from his parents, as soon as the spell was broken, Harry quickly performed Avada Kedavra, forever ridding the world of Voldemort.

The Order of the Phoenix made quick work of trapping the remaining Death Eaters, and the Wizarding world rejoiced even more than they had after the first disappearance of Voldemort

Harry clamped his eyelids shut tightly beneath his glasses, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill down his cheeks_._ The minister soon began to speak, drawing Harry's attention to the pulpit next to the coffin.

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to mourn the loss of a wonderful woman, Hermione Michelle Granger."

__

"Wonderful doesn't even cover it…" Harry thought, remembering all of the extraordinary things about Hermione. She had been the most intelligent, kind, beautiful, passionate, incredible witch Harry had ever known. Not one soul in the entire world knew that Harry was completely and utterly in love with Hermione.

__

During the summer after fourth year, Harry had stayed at Hermione's house. Although he had tried his hardest to keep his emotions about the events after the Third Task bottled up inside, he had broken down late one night. Hermione had stayed up with Harry until after daybreak, letting him pour his heart out.

And when Harry's eyes had welled up with tears as he told her about his parents, Hermione had stopped him when he tried to turn away. She wrapped her arms around him and assured him that it was okay to cry and be afraid and sad. Harry cried in her arms, letting Hermione help ebb away the pain that he felt.

Hermione's gentle touch had comforted him throughout the night, and as Harry drifted off to sleep, he embraced the warm, tender feeling that had replaced the empty aching that had been present in his chest for more than a month. Even though Harry had only recently turned fifteen, he knew exactly what that feeling was… love.

Harry forced his eyes open, his gaze shifting around the room as he absently listened to the minister. Sitting on his left was Ron. He had his head in his hands with his elbows propped up on his knees. Harry could see the slight quaking of Ron's shoulders, and he knew Ron was crying. Parvati Patil, Ron's fiancée, was sitting next to him, her hand on Ron's back and her eyes on the casket, tears cascading down her cheeks. Next to Parvati were Draco and Ginny Malfoy. Draco had openly denounced his father's Death Eater ways shortly after the beginning of sixth year and begun to date Ginny, Ron's younger sister. They had married just weeks after Ginny had graduated from Hogwarts.

On Harry's right sat his godfather, Sirius Black and Sirius' best friend, Remus Lupin. Both had grown very close to Hermione when she, Harry, Ron, and Draco had been inducted into the Order of the Phoenix. Both men had always treated Hermione like they would have a daughter.

Behind Harry was the rest of the Weasley family. Molly and Arthur both sat at the end of the pew, Molly sobbing into Arthur's shoulder. Percy was seated beside them with his wife, Penelope, and their two-year old daughter, Amy. Bill and his wife, Fleur Delacour-Weasley were next to them, followed by Fred, George, and Charlie (all three of them were still single).

Hermione's parents were seated on the bench next to the one Harry was on, both of them looking absolutely devastated. Hermione had been so young, and she had such a promising life ahead of her. She had been their only child, and Harry knew how upsetting the news of her death had been.

Harry had desperately wished he'd been with Hermione when she'd died. She had been on what was supposed to be an easy mission, apprehending a petty criminal. What she hadn't known was that the criminal was a former Death Eater, who had an accomplice around the corner. Just as Hermione had been tying up the criminal with a Binding spell to take them in to the Ministry, his partner had shot around the corner and hit her with a Stunning Charm. Hermione had struck her head against a brick wall when she fell, and she wasn't found for several hours. She had died soon after she had been charged into St. Mungo's.

As the minister continued to speak, Harry thought back to some of his fondest memories of Hermione.

__

As fifth year had drawn to a close, Hermione had been concentrating whole-heartedly on her studies. Most of her time since Christmas had been spent studying for the O.W.L.'s, and Harry and Ron decided that she needed to take a break before she had a nervous breakdown.

"Come on, Mione, let's go," Ron had said, grabbing the quill from her hand.

"What are you doing?!" Hermione asked shrilly, making frantic grabs for her quill. "O.W.L.'s are in just two weeks!"

"Yes, and if you keep studying this much you're going to fall asleep during the test!" Harry said, now snatching her inkbottle and parchment from the table.

"Give it back!" she said forcefully.

"Hermione, you can either come with us peacefully, or we'll take you by force," Ron said warningly.

"I can't go anywhere," she said, making another grab for her quill.

"Well, alright then," Harry said, setting Hermione's things on the table, just out of her reach. When she stood up to get them, Harry quickly grabbed her around the middle and heaved her up onto his shoulder.

"HARRY!" Hermione screeched, "Put me down this instant!"

"Not a chance!" he replied, laughing along with Ron. Walking quickly through the corridors, Hermione's pleas to be set down lessened. As they walked down the stone steps away from the castle, she sighed.

"You know, you can put me down now," she told Harry, who was now having a hard time of carrying her.

Ron slowed his stride and walked behind she and Harry, tilting Hermione's chin upward with one finger. "What, so you can run back to the common room?" he asked, a large smirk on his face.

"I'm not going to run," she said, matter-of-factly.

"Sorry, Mione, but there's not a chance," Harry said, tightening his hold on her. Even with the difficulty of carrying her added weight, though she was anything but heavy, Harry was quite enjoying it. Her body was pleasantly warm against his own, and the skin on her calves, which were uncovered since her robes had ridden up, were very soft and smooth.

Hurrying down the path, Harry, Hermione, and Ron eventually reached the lake, where Harry finally set Hermione on her feet, her hair moving slightly in the light summer breeze. "Okay, what now?" she asked, placing her hands on her hips and glaring at the two boys.

"We've got a plan." Grinning at Ron, Harry pulled out his wand and pointed it at Hermione's robes, which he transfigured into a two-piece bathing suit. She quickly moved her arms to cover her bare skin, looking for something to shield herself with.

"Just what do you think you are doing?!" she screeched, looking as if she'd hex Harry and Ron. Bringing yet another shock to Hermione, the boys quickly pulled off their robes, revealing swimming trunks.

"We're going swimming!" Ron announced happily, quickly running in the direction of the lake. Without so much as a second glance at Harry and Hermione, he jumped in, his cannonball creating large waves over the smooth surface of the water.

Harry quickly deposited his glasses on top of his robes and grabbed Hermione's hand, pulling her towards the water. "But what about the Giant Squid? And aren't there Grindylows in there?" she asked, looking tentatively at the water as she reluctantly followed Harry.

"Don't worry," he said, "The Grindylows are down much deeper than we'll go, and the Giant Squid wouldn't hurt a water beetle."

"Are you sure?" she questioned nervously, pulling Harry to a stop just before he stepped in the water.

"I'm positive," he said firmly, tugging at her hand. "It's great fun. Ron and I came down here with Fred and George a few days ago." Noticing the look of apprehension that was still on her face, Harry brought her hand to his face and gently kissed the back of it. "Trust me, Mione. Would I ever let you get hurt?"

Hermione gave a half-smile. "No, you wouldn't." She then darted past Harry and joined Ron in the still-chilly water.

'Great how that worked out,' Harry thought miserably. 'She trusted me to not ever let her get hurt, and here I let her die. Wasn't I a wonderful friend?'

Harry felt absolutely terrible for never telling Hermione how he felt about her. He had come _so_ close, _so_ many times, but he had never been able to pull out the courage in the end.

Drawing out of his musings, Harry heard the minister speak. "Now, Virginia Malfoy will give the eulogy." Both Harry and Ron, as Hermione's closest friends, had been offered the opportunity to give the eulogy, but they had declined, suggesting Ginny instead. She had always had such a gift with words.

Ginny slowly stepped up to the pulpit, unfolding a piece of parchment. The minister stepped aside and allowed Ginny to face the crowd. "Hermione Granger was more of a superb woman than one can describe in words. She was one of the most intelligent witches ever to have come out of Hogwarts; the bravery she showed in just a few moments could easily match what most people present in a lifetime. Hermione was so passionate about everything that she did that everyday was an adventure for her."

Harry watched as a few sparse tears fell from Ginny's eyes, rolling down her cheeks and splashing the front of her black blouse. With Hermione growing up as an only child and Ginny having only brothers, the two of them had become like sisters over the years.

"Anyone who knew Hermione would be able to say just so many great things about her. She had a very kind heart and a pure soul, and everything she did was filled with great integrity. She blessed the lives of everyone she knew with such happiness and joy. Hermione was a one of a kind person that I feel so lucky to have known. I will miss her greatly, as I know so many others will." Tears falling quickly, Ginny refolded her parchment. "Goodbye, Hermione," she whispered, walking back over to Draco, who wrapped his arms around her and eased her sobs. There were tears in the eyes of everyone in the place, but Harry still fought his back. He couldn't let himself cry; he had to be strong.

"Now, if everyone will form a neat line, it is time to pay the last respects," the minister said sadly. Every person in the room rose from their seats, staying in the order they had been sitting.

Time seemed to pass in slow motion as Harry watched person after person give Hermione one last goodbye. Standing behind Ron, slumped over almost to the point of being on the ground, Harry once again battled his tears. Finally, after quite a while, Harry stood back a respectable distance from Ron as he approached the casket, pulling one long-stemmed black rose from the inside of his jacket pocket.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione had all agreed, before even the first battle with Voldemort, that when they died, the others would place a black rose in their casket. Both Harry and Ron had followed through with the pact they had made, and Harry pulled a flower similar to the one Ron had given from his own pocket. After a considerable amount of time, Ron took a final, woeful look at Hermione and stepped away from the coffin, rejoining Parvati on the pew.

Harry very slowly walked towards the lifeless body of Hermione, raising the dark flower to his nose and inhaling the sweet scent. Looking at Hermione, cold and unmoving in the casket, Harry felt his heart break for the second time in a week. Harry bit his lip hard enough to draw blood as he tried to stop his tears. He gently placed the black rose on Hermione's torso, forming an X as it crossed Ron's. Harry then kissed the pad of his thumb and softly placed it to Hermione's lips. He had done that since they had been sixteen, an act of friendship and love that she had never known.

Hermione had been in the hospital wing for a bad flu just before Christmas in sixth year when he'd done it the first time. She had warned Harry not to get to close, as she was most likely contagious.

__

"I'm serious, Harry, I don't want you to get sick. I feel absolutely awful!" she said, crossing her arms over her chest.

"What, do you think I'm going to lick your face or something like that?" Harry asked jokingly. "I just came to visit, not catch your germs."

"Well, good," she said, managing a weak smile. "Did you get my work?" Harry grinned and sat down beside her on the bed, pulling several pieces of parchment from his bag.

"Let's see… McGonagall wants you to read the next chapter and give her a six-inch essay… Flitwick didn't assign anything new and you already handed in your paper over Mimicking Charms… Snape wouldn't give me any work for you to do… Professor Vector-" Harry was cut off by Hermione siting up rather quickly.

"You went to see Professor Vector?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah," Harry told her, shrugging.

"But her class is nowhere near anything you had today," Hermione said, eyeing Harry suspiciously.

"Well, I figured you'd want your work in Arithmancy, so I went there before I came to see you," he said, handing her the worksheet Professor Vector had assigned her class.

"Thanks," she said dazedly, staring at Harry as if he'd grown an extra head.

"No problem," he replied. Suddenly, Hermione grabbed a quill and pot of ink from the table beside her bed, already jumping into her Arithmancy work. "You're doing that now?"

"Why not?" Hermione told him, biting her lip as she started to work out the first problem. Harry quickly grabbed her hands and stilled her movement.

"You're not doing that now. You are going to rest, and you can do it in the morning," he said firmly, placing everything on the end table.

"But Harry," she whined, "I need to get it done. I don't want to fall behind in my classes!"

"You can do it later," he reassured her, smiling. "Just lay back and get some sleep for now. Please?"

Sighing heavily, Hermione complied. "Alright, I promise," she said, laying back against her pillows.

"Thank you," Harry said, smoothing her hair back from her forehead. "I'll be back after dinner, okay?"

"Okay," she repeated, nodding. Harry kissed his thumb and placed it gently against her lips, the soft feeling they had playing with the nerve endings in his finger and sending a jolt down his spine.

"Bye, Mione," he said quietly, grabbing his book bag from her bed.

"Bye, Harry," she replied as he walked out of the infirmary.

Every time Harry saw her just before she went to bed after that, he had continued with the ritual of relaying a kiss with his thumb. Her lips were always silky smooth, no matter what.

Keeping his voice as low as possible, Harry bent over the casket and whispered. "I will always love you, Hermione. Forever." He did as Ron had done and took one last, final look at Hermione.

Her soft chestnut hair that had only calmed down slightly, still remaining thick and curly; her creamy skin that had always been soft to the touch; the lids that covered her deep, chocolate eyes; the cute ski jump nose that Hermione had despised, but Harry had always thought was adorable; her smooth, pink lips that had been painted a light red; the dimpled chin and graceful neck; small shoulders and a perfectly shaped torso. Forcing himself not to cry, Harry then turned away from the coffin, slowly walking down and sinking into his seat next to Ron.

Very slowly, all of the guests finished with their last good-byes, many breaking down in tears beside her limp body. The minister then approached the pulpit. "If everyone would please bow their head in a final prayer." Harry clasped his hands together in front of his body and closed his eyes, his head dipping down as he listened to the prayer, not even comprehending one word that was spoken.

Harry very dimly heard the minister speak the last 'amen.' With that, the coffin was levitated out of the church, towards the graveyard behind it. Every person in the room rose, filing outside into the bitter cold October air. When everyone was outside, Harry watched as the casket was gently lowered to the ground. Small groups of people approached to throw handfuls of dirt.

Mr. and Mrs. Granger were first. Mrs. Granger was sobbing deeply and loudly, clutching a handkerchief, and Mr. Granger was letting silent tears fall down his face. Next, Harry and Ron approached together. Ron gave Harry a sad smile as they each grabbed a handful of the earth. Face expressionless, Harry tossed the soil onto the box, running his clean hand through his raven hair.

Harry stood beside Ron as every last person threw in their handfuls, the rest of the dirt being packed in with a Transference Charm. Harry glanced at the headstone, which read: 

"Hermione Michelle Granger

Born September 19, 1980 Died October 7, 2004

Rest In Peace, Dear Heavenly Angel"

Her parents had chosen the inscription, and Harry felt that it fit her well. Hermione _was _an angel. In his whole life, Harry had never had one person affect him as much as she did. Even the simplest things Hermione did could make him want to completely change himself completely.

With the chilling wind blowing all around, Harry stood in silence, staring at the grave. His one true love was gone, and she'd never even known. When Harry thought of the memories they might have shared had he not been such a coward, it nearly made him sick. He had lost one of the only things in his life that brought him joy, and he'd never get her back. Not ever.

Slowly, the cemetery began to empty, with people heading to Mr. and Mrs. Granger's house for the wake. It would have been held at the flat Harry had shared with Hermione, but her parents had insisted upon it being held in her childhood home.

As the number of guests dwindled, Harry stood his ground. Just before Ron and Parvati left, some of the last people remaining, Ron came to Harry. "You alright, mate?" he asked quietly, his tear-stained cheeks red with the cold.

"Fine, you?" Harry replied. Ron simply nodded. Harry quickly closed the space between them and pulled Ron into a brotherly hug, feeling the pain Ron had been experiencing and helping to lessen it. If one other person in the world would be affected by Hermione's death nearly as much as Harry, it would be Ron. The three of them had been the best of friends for thirteen years, and now a great void would always be present, where Hermione's happy, smiling self should have been.

Pulling back, Harry could see that more tears had fallen from Ron's eyes, while he was still willing himself not to. He wouldn't cry. "I'll see you later, okay?" Ron said sadly, clapping Harry's shoulder. Harry gave a slow nod, clasping Ron's shoulder in return.

"See you," he said, closing his eyes. Ron then rejoined Parvati and took her hand, the two of them Apparating to the wake. Returning to staring silently at Hermione's grave, Harry shoved his hands into his pockets.

A few minutes later, Sirius approached Harry, standing quietly beside his godson for a few moments before he spoke. "How are you, Harry?"

"As good as can be expected, I guess," Harry replied, shrugging.

For another moment, Sirius was silent. He then spoke, not looking at Harry. "You never told Hermione, did you?"

Harry quickly spun to face his godfather, a puzzled expression on his face. "I never told her what?"

Sirius gave Harry a half-smile. "That you loved her." Harry's jaw dropped in shock. 'Sirius knows?!' he thought wildly. 'I never told _anyone_! Not even Ron!'

"How-how did you know?" Harry asked, blinking heavily.

"I know you, Harry," Sirius replied. "I've known for the longest time. Just watching the way you acted around her. And whenever you looked at Hermione, you always had this little dreamy smile on your face, like she was the most wonderful thing in the world. That's the same look your dad always gave your mum."

"She _was_ the most wonderful thing in the world, Sirius," he said in a small voice, absently pushing his glasses up on his nose. "She really was." Sirius just nodded knowingly, placing a hand on Harry's shoulder.

"Do you want to go on to the wake?" he asked softly.

"No, you go on ahead," Harry replied, shaking his head sadly.

Sirius nodded understandingly. "Harry, remember that if you ever need anyone to talk to, about _anything_, that I'm there for you, always. Two in the morning, whatever, okay Harry?"

"Thanks, Sirius," he replied.

"And don't ever hesitate, either," Sirius added. "I'll see you later, kiddo." He playfully ruffled his godson's hair before he Disapparated. Once again, Harry stared forlornly at Hermione's grave.

Before long, the rest of the funeral party had left, leaving Harry completely alone to his memories. Times when he and Hermione had stayed up all night talking, be it at Hogwarts, Sirius's during the Christmas holiday of seventh year, their flat; times they'd studied in the common room for exams and N. E. W. T.'s; when he'd taught Hermione to fly; so many good memories. Harry thought back to the Ministry Ball, only eight months prior.

__

Harry self-consciously surveyed his appearance in the mirror in his bathroom, smoothing out his midnight blue dress robes. "Hermione, are you ready yet?" he called, checking his watch.

"Let me just put my shoes on," she replied. Harry quickly walked through his bedroom into the hallway, leaning against the wall outside Hermione's door. Sighing heavily, he hit his fist on the wall in a signal to Hermione to hurry up. "I'm coming, I'm coming!" she yelled, the door swinging open. Harry's breath caught in his throat.

Hermione was wearing a scarlet dress robe that resembled a gown. It was snug on her torso and flared out at her hips, a heart shaped pendant hanging from a golden chain around her neck. Her brown curls were cascading down her back, and Harry knew she must have dipped into her supply of Sleakeazy's Hair Potion, something she only did on the most formal of occasions.

"How do I look?" she asked nervously, twirling once.

"Hermione, you look- oh, wow!" he said, raising one hand to his mouth.

Hermione's face fell and her shoulders slumped, staring at the ground. "That bad, huh?"

"No!" Harry said urgently. "You look gorgeous, Hermione!"

"Really?" Hermione asked.

"Yes," he replied, much more softly. He tucked a stray curl behind her ear and gently cradled her cheek. "You are beautiful."

"Thank you," she whispered with a smile.

Harry and Hermione had gone together for lack of a date on either of their parts, but Harry had been absolutely ecstatic that they'd gone together. Sure, he'd dated a few women, but none of them had ever been able to equal Hermione for him. Through Harry's string of bad relationships, he'd only been able to come to one conclusion as to why all of them ended: he was too much in love with Hermione.

"Why?" he asked quietly, not to anyone in particular. "Why'd Hermione have to die? What did she do?"

Then, Harry felt the stinging prick in his eyes, knowing that he could stop the tears anymore. "Why, Hermione? Why did you have to leave me? I love you so much." Harry felt the cold air attacking his cheeks and the tears now running down them. "Why?!" he yelled, sinking down to his knees. "WHY!?"

Harry's loud, anguished sobs filled the air, his tears hitting the ground. "Hermione," he said in a strangled whisper, "I love you. Why?"

******

Harry sat bolt upright in his bed, his breathing labored, sweat and tears running down his face. There had been a dream, and Hermione had died. As the memories came back to him quite vividly, Harry sank backwards on his bed.

Hermione's cold, lifeless body lying in a casket… memories of their time together flashing through his mind… he'd never told her that he loved her…

"Hermione…" he whispered, grabbing his glasses from his bedside table. This side of consciousness he knew it was a dream, but it had been so _real_. Harry really had been in love with Hermione for nine years, sad as it sounded, and he had never told her.

Checking his alarm clock, Harry realized that it was nearly three in the morning. He'd had dreams of things happening to Hermione before, as well as ones like those with Ron, Sirius, Ginny, but it had been so terrible. He'd never had such an awful dream, with the exceptions of the dreams after the Triwizard Tournament with Cedric.

When Harry's breathing had returned to normal, he made possibly the biggest decision of his life: he had to tell her. After that dream, there was no way he could go even one more day without at least letting her know. He doubted that Hermione would ever feel the same way, but he had to get it out. Harry quickly jammed his feet into his slippers and threw on his robe, jogging down the hall to Hermione's room.

Stopping outside, Harry gathered every last vestige of courage he could find. Slowly he raised his hand, knocking three times. He could hear Hermione stirring inside, a soft moan barely audible through the door. Waiting for several moments, Harry finally heard Hermione's light steps across the room, holding his breath as she opened the door.

Rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand, Hermione yawned. "Harry, it is three in the morning, what is it?" she asked sleepily.

"Hermione, I have to talk to you," he said urgently. Hermione looked taken aback at his tone of voice.

"Um, okay," she said, opening the door wider. "Uh, come in." Harry quickly stepped into Hermione's room, a place he'd always loved. It was just so- Hermione. Two completely packed bookshelves stood against opposite walls, one filled with encyclopedias and reference books and all of Hermione's educational volumes. The other was crammed with great works of Hermione's favorite literature, like 'A Tale of Two Cities' and 'Moby Dick.' Not an inch of the shelves had available space, and most of the books were stacked two or even three deep. The desk, like the whole room, was neat and tidy, with not a quill out of place. The décor was simple, yet handsome.

Sitting down heavily on the end of the bed, Harry peripherally saw Hermione giving him a strange look as she sat beside him. "Harry, what's wrong?" she asked gently.

Taking a deep breath, Harry slowly turned to face the woman beside him. "Okay, Mione, this is one of the hardest things I've ever had to say in my whole life."

"You know you can always tell me anything, Harry," Hermione said with an encouraging smile. Harry returned it nervously, running a hand through his hair.

Harry reached over and took Hermione's hand, holding tightly in his. "Now, Hermione, this is really going to come as a big shock to you. This is something that I've felt practically forever, and I have never had the courage to tell you."

Hermione watched intently, but Harry avoided her gaze, knowing that if he looked her in the eyes, he'd chicken out again. "Hermione," Harry said slowly, closing his eyes, "I- I love you. And not just in a friendly way, or an 'I've-got-a-crush-on-you' kind of way. I am really, truly, head over heels in love with you."

Hermione's jaw dropped. "W-what?" she asked quietly.

"I love you," Harry repeated. "Ever since that summer I spent at your house after fourth year." Harry finally looked up to see Hermione's eyes shining with tears.

"You love me?" she asked.

"Yes," he said, quickly looking down at the comforter. "I completely understand that you don't feel the same way as me, and I didn't expect you to. I just- I had this dream, and I couldn't keep it in any longer."

Harry jumped at the touch of Hermione's hand on his cheek. He looked up to see her smiling sweetly. She slowly stroked his cheek with her thumb, now staring intently into his emerald eyes. "Why don't you let _me_ decide how I feel, hmm?"

Harry opened his mouth slowly, furrowing his eyebrows. "W-what?" he questioned, completely puzzled. What was Hermione trying to say?

"Harry, you great prat," she said, shaking her head. Hermione slowly moved forward, framing Harry's face in her hands. Harry nearly collapsed as he felt Hermione gently brush her lips against his own, his eyes closing of their own accord. The kiss was soft and sweet, and it jolted through Harry like a bolt of lightning.

When she pulled back a moment later, Harry stared at her in shock. Hermione had kissed him?! Why had that happened? Harry slowly ran his tongue along his lower lip, tasting the sweet flavor of Hermione. "What was that for?" he asked quietly.

Hermione let out a soft laugh, tears falling out of her eyes. "I love you, too," she said, biting her lip. "I'd always known I'd felt differently about you, but I couldn't tell what it was. Then, in sixth year, when you started that whole 'finger-kiss' thing, I knew it was more than friendship. I had absolutely no idea that it was actually love until the Ministry ball. When you told me that I looked beautiful, I just knew."

"You- you love _me_?" Harry asked incredulously.

"Yes, Harry; I love you." Hermione's face was decorated with the most beautiful smile Harry had ever seen on it.

"I love you, too," he replied, a huge, silly grin on his face. Harry took Hermione's hands in his own, closing his eyes as he moved towards Hermione, their lips meeting in another kiss. This one was deeper and more passionate, while still retaining sweet innocence.

Stopping the kiss after just a few moments, Harry sat back on the bed, still holding Hermione's hands. "I can't believe this," she said, still smiling.

"Me neither," Harry replied, moving forward and gently capturing Hermione's lips in another kiss. When he pulled back, he reluctantly stood up. "We should probably get some sleep and talk about this tomorrow."

"Yeah," Hermione agreed, laying back against her pillows. In a highly affectionate gesture, Harry pulled her blanket up to her shoulders and gently tucked her in before he kissed his thumb and softly placed it against her lips in their familiar goodnight. Hermione changed the routine slightly, though. Before Harry could move the finger back, she kissed it as well. Harry then brought it to his own lips, applying gently pressure.

"Goodnight, Hermione," he said as he walked to the door. "I love you."

"I love you, too," Hermione said sincerely. Harry smiled, closing the door, wondering how such a bad dream could have such a perfect end.

******

(A/N- I know, I know, very sappy ending. But it kinda balances out all of that angst back there. I almost cried when I wrote this. Of course, I don't cry very often, so that's gotta be pretty sad for me to do it.

Now, just in case you didn't get it, I'll explain a bit. All of Harry's memories in the dream, you know, with the killing of Voldemort and the swimming and the thumb kissing, all of those things actually happened in Harry's life. I also know that it is highly unlikely that Harry would have dreamed about things that had happened, but this is my story, not yours.

I really hope you enjoyed this, angsty as it was for most of it. If you wouldn't mind, please review and tell me what you thought (bonus points if you cried!). Well, I'm off to eat some fried rice and watch the Man Show!

Later,

Gwen)


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